Reflection
by Kursed SeeD
Summary: Squall reflects on betraying Seifer. [Implied Yaoi. SS.]


****

Title: Reflection

  
**Author:** Kursed SeeD  
  
**Pairings:** Implied Seifer/Squall

  
**Warnings:** Yaoi, Angst

****

Summary: Squall reflects on betraying Seifer.

  
**Disclaimer:** Now, you do know that I don't own Final Fantasy VIII or any of its' characters, right? I thought so.

~~***~~

Reflection is our most dangerous tool. 

We use it all the time; when we're lying in bed and unable to sleep, when we're at work, when we're eating, when we're merely existing. 

Life is full of what ifs. No matter what you do, you'll always have that "What if I had... instead." 

I think it is a result of man's never ending insecurity. There's no one here to guide us, to tell us what we should do, so we always doubt our actions and ourselves. We always end up thinking to ourselves that we are somehow to blame; we made a wrong choice and now we must pay. 

Most of our ramblings are nonsense, and we know it. Unfortunately, being aware of it will not stop us. We try to shut the thoughts out, but they'll always come back. "Maybe if I had been a better child, my father would have wanted me..." "Maybe if I hadn't been born, my mother would have lived..." Maybe, maybe, maybe. 

There are several things I regret in my life, but none to the point of utter despair. 

None, that is, except for Seifer.   
  
Seifer I regret more than life itself. 

We turned our backs on him without a second thought. True, he wasn't our friend per say, but he was still one of us. We should have raced to protect him, stayed up long nights racking our brains trying to figure something out... but... we didn't. We immediately turned him into some kind of monster, we didn't even consider offering our help. He was our enemy from the beginning.

I think we did it because it was easier. It was less complicated if he was the enemy, if all we had to do was concentrate on destroying him, instead of trying to think up a way to _save_ him.

I think I'm the only one who has these thoughts. I've tried to bring it up with a few people, like Quistis and Rinoa, but they just sort of blink at me, this blank expression written all over their face, like they don't even begin to understand what I'm saying, or maybe... they don't want to. 

Sometimes I wonder if I'm crazy. Am I the only one that sees this? The only one that can see the horror behind the lies? Am I the only one affected by how quickly we are willing to sweep the dirt under the rug, not even giving it a second thought?   
  
Surely, something must not be right here. 

Betraying Seifer came like an afterthought. It was only _after_ we had betrayed him that I realised what we had done. It was only _after_ I spent countless nights wondering what felt out of place that I realised we had seriously messed up. Only after... _after, after, after._

Reflection is our most useless tool. 

We reflect, but the damage is already done. The wounds have already been made, and not all wounds can fully heal, apology or not. Words are just words, past actions account for everything. _He screwed me over once, why trust him again?_

How can you ever make it okay again when you nearly destroyed it in the first place? Is it even possible anymore? We did a lot of damage to Seifer, to his pride, to his very soul, how could I ever expect to fix that? How could I even begin? 

A man, no matter how he is portrayed or how he carries himself is, after all, merely a man. And men have their pride, their own cravings for acceptance and a reassurance of their worth. I believe that to be the very foundation of mankind in general. And that's exactly what we took from Seifer. 

We destroyed his pride.

We beat him down, left him a mess, cowering behind the skirts of a woman who tortured him beyond our wildest imaginations. We attacked him, sometimes fairly, sometimes unfairly, and proved to him that we were better than him, that in the end we would always stand and he would always fall.   
  
We refused to accept him. 

We refused to trust him, refused to think of the possible good in him, automatically marked his file as 'unsalvageable' and set about destroying him under any means necessary. 

We proved to him that he was worthless. 

  
We didn't try to save him, didn't even think about saving him, we didn't waste a spare second to wonder "Is it really him? Is he doing this on his own? I know the guy can be a jerk, but is he really capable of this all on his own?" 

We took away his basic foundation for living and surviving and, without the sturdy walls he was used to, he crumpled, like a small child begging for his mother, begging to be forgiven for something he didn't do. (Not like we would ever believe him though, huh?) 

Reflection is our most painful tool. 

Reflection can result in either two things. A lot of wasted time and the bitter realisation that what you have done cannot be changed, cannot be undone, it might be forgiven, but it will not be forgotten, or a final decision of action, a futile attempt to undo what has been done or, at very least, make it bearable.  
  
Time does not heal all wounds. Especially when the wounds are mortal. 

When a person reflects on what they have done wrong, a grand majority of them will just dwell on it, soak their pillows with their tears and curl up inside their own little world for a bit. Eventually the person will come to their senses and move on, noting bitterly that all of those days, those weeks, those months, they all could have been used for something better. 

There are some of the reflectors though, like myself, that decides to take action upon their reflection. They get this wild hair up their ass and the next thing they know they're knocking on someone's door at three in the morning, wracking their brains for all that they planned to say, all that they wanted to say, as it steadily drips away from them. 

Reflection can be met two different ways. Either with acceptance or denial. 

Sometimes the person will forgive (not forget), and after some time, life will move on.   
  
But my life has never claimed to be a fairy-tale (despite the PR I get in the local and national papers). Things have never worked out simply for me, gone the way I wanted them to and I have never been lucky. 

I have spent the past two years apologising to Seifer Almasy. Two years spent trying to convince him not to hate me anymore, going above and beyond the call of duty to help him with whatever he needed, just trying to be his friend. 

In all of my two years I have spent groveling at my former enemies' feet, he has not once forgiven me, has not once given me a kind glance or a sweet word. His face has been forged in stone, his feelings locked away in the ice that was once mine. The ice he had tried so desperately to take away from me had finally been given to him, in all of it's frozen glory. 

Each time I look into his face I feel this pang of sheer agony in my stomach. I spend my nights tossing and turning in my bed, thinking of all that he used to be, all that he could have been, if only we hadn't destroyed him. 

Reflection is our most mysterious tool. 

Reflection can lead to other surprises, to other realizations that you never knew existed before. It is like going down a dark corridor, sure there is only one path, only to discover at the end of your journey that there is in fact two, or perhaps even three. 

I found love in reflection. It all started with trying to fix the wrong, which led to thinking of how it was before the wrong and how it should be afterwards, which eventually led to realising that I, despite all of my power and glory, had to be the most stupidest man in the history of life itself. 

I am also one of the worlds' most selfish human beings in existance. Through many sleepless nights I learned that my reflection was mainly for myself. I missed the Seifer of old. I _needed_ the Seifer of old. I needed his passion, his fire, his refusal to just quit and give up when all looked completely hopeless. I missed him, I needed him, and I loved him. For all that he had been, for all that he could have been.   
  
And I, in my infinite wisdom and capability, had destroyed him. Had ruined everything, not only for him, but for myself as well. In a split second, when I had labeled Seifer as the enemy, I had given away both his happiness and mine. 

You remember what I said about reflections leading to bitter realizations? I had one of those quite recently. 

I had been in the cafeteria and some of the junior classmen (who have always been quite the handful and very inconsiderate, might I add) were trying to goad Seifer into getting angry. They called him names (most of the usual 'lapdog' and such forth, words I myself had once painfully used against him) and tripped him while he was walking past, causing his food to fall off of his tray, landing on the floor with a sickening and most definite thump. 

I had seen my opportunity, yet another chance at that ever elusive redemption, and had sprinted to his side, instantly commanding all of the junior classmen the hell out of the cafeteria, making sure that they noted I wanted to speak to them later, in private. 

I had reached my hand out, and I remember being so incredibly and childishly nervous because every time I had tried to help Seifer before that he would merely glare at me and walk away as fast as he possibly could. 

I prepared myself for that anger when he lifted his head, his eyes meeting mine. 

But what I found instead sent me reeling backwards, muttering excuses to flee to the safety of my room as quickly as possible. 

Nothing. 

I saw nothing. 

His eyes were entirely dead, lost to both him and I and it was then that I knew there was no going back, there was no making it okay, because it would never be okay. 

He would never forgive me but, most importantly, I would never be able to forgive myself. I had driven the fire, the passion, the relentlessness away from him and left him with my ice, with my detachment and refusal to feel. 

Reflection is a tool made to kill. 

I'm sitting here, alone in my room in the middle of the night, my body twisted around my sheets, my head hiding carefully under my pillow and I only know one thing. 

Only death could heal the wounds that I have given. 

It's only a question if it will end up being mine or his.

-

-

****

Author's Notes: Wow. I actually started this story several months ago but I continued to put it off or get distracted when I did try to write on it... and now I'm actually through with it. Oh my, I could dance! Please do let me know what your thoughts are, as long as they're happy ones mind you. ;) C'mon, feed my muses so they'll give me something to go on every now and then!

Zen: Yes feed her muses!! I wanna see the end of this story!!

Many thanks to Zencreation for beta-reading this! Go out and read her stories!! NOW!! *stomps foot* ^~


End file.
